


Doors We've Opened (And Closed)

by Anonymous6285



Series: *pride* [17]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Coming Out, Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, Teenagers, Valentine's Day, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anonymous6285
Summary: George wants to confess his love for Ringo on Valentine's Day, only it doesn't go the way he planned.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Series: *pride* [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967863
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18
Collections: Peace & Love Mini Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy almost Valentine's Day!! :)

Valentine’s Day, 1964

He stared down at the paper, trapped between the cylinder of the typewriter and the bar keeping it stationary. He knew he wanted to write something for Valentine’s Day for the love of his life, confessing his love completely and for the last time. For the last few months, he’d done small little things to hint at it, but it was never really a lot.

But George was tired of dancing around it, and no matter how his friends would react, he was going to do it. 

So here he sat, hands resting on the keys, wondering how he was going to even start this. How were you supposed to start a romantic letter, confessing your love to your best mate?

‘Dear,’ he typed, suddenly freezing. What if somebody walked in as he wrote this? He wouldn’t want them to see the name Ringo at the top of the page, and there was no way he could hide it discreetly. Immediately skipping to the next line without a name, he started the actual letter.

‘I’ve never been sure how exactly one is supposed to start a letter like this, but I guess I’ll give it a try. To be completely honest, I really wish that I didn’t love you as much as I do.’ Then, the door opened, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus! Who--?”

“Whoa, calm down there, Georgie. What are you doing?” Then he looked past the guitarist and saw the typewriter. “Song?” he questioned, sneaking over towards it and reading what had been written. “Ohhh, a love letter! And who’s this to?”

“None of your business, Paul. Sod off.”

“George has got a secret girlfriend, then?” He knew Paul didn’t mean any harm in saying it, but the fact that he implied that it was a girl made George’s stomach drop. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

He stayed in the room as he changed into different clothes, and George held off on typing anything more, scared Paul might read it again. Eventually, Paul slipped out of the room with a sloppy smile, and George turned back to the typewriter.

‘I love the way you play your drums, and while I don’t see you during your shows, I sometimes get a peek at your face, and your smile is enough to calm my nerves. I know you might think I’m just one of your crazy fangirls, but I’m not.’ Then, he stopped. Would Ringo even read it this far? Probably not, right? ‘I’m a boy, and all my life, I’ve been told that it isn’t right to like another boy. I’d like to believe my friends would be supportive, but whenever I talk to them about you, they assume it’s a girl.’

After typing it out, he realised that at this point, he was just ranting, and Ringo didn’t want that. He wanted the drummer to at least make it to the bottom of the page. He went down a couple of lines and sighed.

‘Anyroad, I won’t go too far. Happy Valentine’s Day from a hopeless boy absolutely mad in love with you.

‘-Geo’

The door opened again, and he frantically pulled the note from the typewriter, cringing as it clicked so loudly. It was Paul again. “God, what’s so secret, love? I thought it was just to your girlfriend.”

“Yeah. It’s just really personal.”

“Kinky,” Paul muttered with an evil grin. “Well, I just forgot my wallet. You wanna start sorting the fanmail till we get back, or would you want to come with?” George glanced down at the paper he was folding up in his hands. He had to get this to Ringo. Maybe pretending it was fanmail might help.

“I’ll stay here and sort.”

“Perfect. Ringo’s already on it, so you can come on out here and help him.” George’s heart skipped a beat. How was he even going to get the letter in with the fanmail if Ringo was sitting right there? 

-

By the time he stepped out of his room shyly, Paul and John were gone, and Ringo looked up at him with the cutest smile he’d ever seen. No. Stop. Don’t think those kinds of things about him.

“Hey, George. Heard you might come help me out with all of this!” It brightened his mood to know that Ringo had at least been looking forward to seeing him.

“Yeah…” He hid the letter behind his back. 

“Whatcha got there?” 

“Oh! I haven’t got anything special… Just a letter.” He nodded towards the pile of mail on the table. Ringo smiled, holding his hand out for it, prompting George to hand it over to him. This was it. He was finally coming out to Ringo. He looked down at the letter, and the door opened again. This was finally going to be his special moment, and John and Paul walked into the room, clothes soaked.

“It’s raining,” Paul muttered sadly. “We’re so stupid. We should have checked the window. God…”

John looked over at Ringo. “Oh, a letter! What’s it say? These are always entertaining.” John aat himself down on the armrest of the chair Ringo was in as he unfolded the top part of the page. George wanted so badly to open his mouth and tell him to just wait until they were in private together, but he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come out.

“Dear,” he said aloud, and John just chuckled. “I’ve never been sure how exactly one is supposed to start a letter like this, but I guess I’ll give it a try.” Then, Paul looked over at them, raising an eyebrow. “To be completely honest, I really wish that I didn’t love you as much as I do.”

God, George was going to be killed for this. His face was as red as it had ever been, but he didn’t stop him, even when Paul gave him a strange look from the corner of his eyes. Lo and behold, Paul _knew_.

“I love the way you play your drums, and while I don’t see you during your shows, I sometimes get a peek at your face, and your smile is enough to calm my nerves. I know you might think I’m just one of your crazy fangirls, but I’m not. I’m a boy, and all my life, I’ve been told that it isn’t right to like another boy.”

“A fag!” John shouted, and Paul just got more and more worried, seeing the way George was fighting back tears right now. Here he was, practically spilling everything and all of his feelings accidentally to all his friends, and John was still making jokes about it.

“Fuck off, John,” Ringo said rolling his eyes. “You’re the reason this poor kid feels so bad about himself!”

“I don’t even know him!”

He unfolded the card to see the second half. “I’d like to believe my friends would be supportive, but whenever I talk to them about you, they assume it’s a girl. Anyroad, I won’t go too far. Happy Valentine’s Day from a hopeless boy absolutely mad in love with you.” 

“Oh,” John whispered, having already read the name at the bottom. “I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

“Geo.” He couldn’t deny how fast his heart was beating right now, and hearing the pain in Ringo’s voice as he said it, like he felt bad for him. “You didn’t want me to read that in front of them, did you? I’m so sorry…”

He was too shocked to even say anything, so he just shrugged. “S’fine.” The awkwardness hung in the air as the guitarist kept his eyes on the floor, face burning in embarrassment. He was too shy to get up and leave, so he stayed, feeling Paul’s eyes staring at his hunched over frame.

“George,” Ringo muttered.

“I’m fine, Richie!” His voice cracked, and when he looked up to see six eyes on him, they could finally see the tears that were slowly rolling down his cheeks.

“You’re not, love… Can you two leave for a minute?” John and Paul exchanged glances with each other before leaving the room, and Ringo got a bit closer to George, putting his hands on the other man’s knees. “You okay?”

George did everything in his power to avoid eye contact. “Rich, I told you I’m fine.”

“It’s okay, you know. There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry John had to be a prick, but you know how he is.” George pushed Ringo away from him, and once again, the door opened. He just couldn’t get away from the fucking doors today.

Brian’s head peeked in, and after seeing that nothing was going on, he let himself in. “Ringo, John and Paul said that you wouldn’t want to be sharing with George tonight, so I moved that around, and you can share with John instead.”

George sobbed, suddenly standing up and storming off, and Ringo put a hand to his mouth. “Shouldn’t have said that, Brian…”

“I thought you two got in a fight. That’s what John--”

“You really trust him with everything, don’t you??” Ringo huffed and followed the man out of the room and towards the bedroom, where he found the door locked. Of course. What else did he expect?

He knocked on it and heard a soft, “Go away!”

“Geo, can I talk to you for a bit. It’s only me. I promise.” There was a click, and the door cracked open. George’s red eyes greeted him, and he sighed. “Love, I’ve gotta tell you something…”


	2. Chapter 2

Valentines Day, 1960

With a drunk smile, George hung off of Ringo, heavy on the older boy’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming, Rich.” 

He didn’t know how there could be a way he didn’t come. George only remembered Ringo’s home phone, so it wasn’t like anybody else would get him. “It’s no problem. Let’s just get you home, okay?”

George sighed, continuing to walk outside and to Ringo’s mum’s car. “Didn’t know your mum came, too. You didn’t have to wake her up.”

“She didn’t, love. I just borrowed her car.” George hummed, content with the answer. “Who’d you come with, Georgie?”

“Pete. But he fucked off with some bird.”

“He’s supposed to be watching after you! You’re just sixteen…” When the other boy didn’t answer, Ringo forgot about it, unlocking the car and opening up the passenger door for him. 

They were mostly quiet for the first few minutes of the ride until George groaned. “Uh, oh…” Ringo looked over at him, worried that something was wrong. “Rich, I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oh, god. Alright. I’ll pull over. Just a—“ But it was too late. George lurched forward, and the awful sound of reaching filled the car. “Fuck. Me mum’s gonna kill me.” George opened his mouth to apologise only to find that he wasn’t done, and more of his stomach contents emptied onto his lap. “George….” he whined. 

“I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have called. I’m sure Pete would’ve found me later.”

“Damn Shotton wouldn’t have, George. Don’t even worry about it. You did the right thing calling me, okay? I’m not mad.” George looked up from his cooling pile of sick. “I might be a little mad, but you didn’t do it on purpose.” 

“I’m still sorry. I’ll help you clean it so your mum doesn’t find out!” 

“No. I’m going to get you home. You need some rest.” He pulled up to George’s house, and after walking around the side of the car, he saw that George was crying. “Oh, love, what’s the matter? I told you not to worry about the car.”

“No, it’s not that. I just need to tell you something.”

Ringo sighed. “Listen, why don’t you wait to tell me tomorrow. Sometimes, you can say things you’ll regret when you’re this pissed.”

“Richie! I’ve been trying to tell you for so long, but I just can’t do it!” Ringo wanted to shut him up, but he seemed to have this whole thing planned. Before he could even try, George pressed his lips up against Ringo’s, and the drummer froze. 

It was long enough to feel extremely uncomfortable until George pushed away. 

“I’m… I’m so sorry. You probably think I’m disgusting! M’sorry.”

“George, you’re drunk,” Ringo insisted, and the younger boy nodded. Ringo finally knocked on the door, waiting with his friend until his father answered. 

“George! What in god’s name—“ He looked at Ringo, eyeing him up and down. “Who are you?”

“I’m Richard, sir. George’s friend. He called me to come pick him up.” When the boy’s dad seemed hesitant, he spoke again. “I didn’t know he went out. I wouldn’t have let him if I knew he was gonna—“

“Don’t be a git!” George shouted, elbowing him in the stomach. 

“Thank you, Richard. I’m so sorry about your trouble.” Harold started to lead George inside, cringing at his soiled clothes. 

“It’s no trouble. Always willing to help out a friend. I was wondering if you could let him call me in the morning. Just wanna make sure he’s alright.” 

“Of course. Though I’m sure that’s the last call he’ll be making for a week. Drive home safely. I’m assuming you have our number if your parents give you any trouble. I’ll let them know you were just dealing with him.” 

“Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow, Geo.” George grinned at him, and the door closed. 

-

When he got home, his mother was still in bed, and he sighed, knowing he’d have to get her up to ask how he was supposed to clean up the car. He had no idea where to start. 

Cracking open her bedroom door, he tiptoed over to her bed and shook her awake. If he waited until morning, she’d get onto him for not cleaning it himself. 

“Mum,” he whispered, and she rolled over right away, grabbing his hand in her own. 

“Is everything okay, love?” He felt so bad about this. It was the middle of the night, and she was too sweet to be woken. 

“I had to go pick up George. He got drunk and was sick in your car. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know how to clean it up.” When she started to get out of the bed, Ringo shook his head. “No, mum. Just tell me. I can do it. You need to sleep.”

“Nonsense, Richie. I don’t want you out there all alone. It’s dark!” He sighed, knowing he wasn't going to win this battle. “Let’s take care of it in the morning.”

“You sure?” Elsie nodded. “But you’ve got work.” 

“It’ll be alright. Get to bed, sweetheart.”

-

Valentines Day, 1964

There was a click, and the door cracked open. George’s red eyes greeted him, and he sighed. “Love, I’ve gotta tell you something…” 

George eyed him carefully. “I don’t know what you could possibly have to say. I’m the one that should be apologising for this. I could have just told you to stop reading the letter, but--”

“It’s not about that, Geo. I don’t have a problem with this, okay? I promise you that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with liking a boy.” He tried to get past George and into the room so that they could have the conversation in private, but George wouldn’t let him, so he respected his boundaries and bounced awkwardly outside the door.

“How do I know you’re not just saying that and tomorrow you’ll realise how gross I really am, and you’ll start to just drift--”

“I already knew!” he shouted, and George’s face changed, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint how. “Do you remember the night on Valentines Day when you got really drunk and called me to pick you up, and you got sick in the car?”

George mumbled, “Sorry,” glancing down at the floor. 

“What? No. George, no. You haven’t got to-- that was years ago! Don’t apologise for that.” Ringo glanced over, still seeing Brian in the common room. “Can I just come in, and if you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

“Okay.” George moved over, and the drummer stepped inside, plopping down on the bed.

“You were sixteen, George. And you and Pete Shotton went out to hook up with birds or something.” George sat down a few feet away from him on the same bed, clearly interested in the story. “You two didn’t tell anybody, so no one knew.”

The guitarist sat quietly and listened. 

“Well, my phone rang in the middle of the night, and it was you. I mean, usually when you lot went out, there was always someone who knew that could keep you out of trouble, y’know? And you told me it was just you and Shotton, and that he left with a girl, and my number was the only one you remembered.”

“I didn’t know that… I would’ve never wanted to wake you up like that. I’m so sorry.” He sniffled, wiping at his face with his sleeved wrist.

“It’s fine, love. This was long ago.” Scooting a bit closer to George, he continued his story. “Obviously, I came to get you, because you were piss drunk and young, and you didn’t need to be out alone. I took you back to your place, but when we got there, you erm… you kept saying that you wanted to tell me something.” He took a deep breath remembering it. “And you kissed me.”

“Oh, god. Richie--”

“Don’t say you’re sorry, George. There’s no need to be. I just… the next day, you didn’t remember any of it, and I wanted to tell you because I…” Now, Ringo was the one on the verge of tears. “Geo, I liked you, too! I stayed up all the time thinking about telling you everything, but I had convinced myself that you were just drunk, that you didn’t actually like me that way. I thought if I told you, you would’ve been grossed out or something.”

“You should’ve asked!” Now, George was getting frustrated at the past that he couldn’t change.

“You never talked about it!”

“If you’d have asked, I would’ve told you!” Now, tears were falling down both of their faces. 

“I thought even if it was real, that it would’ve gone away by now. It’s been four years, Georgie… And I saw your name at the bottom of that card, and I--” He was cut off when a pair of lips hit his, and he immediately pulled George onto his lap, kissing back.

“I love you, Richie. If I had known, I wouldn’t have spent years of my life hiding it from you. I’m so sorry. If I told you--”

“You did! You did tell me, George!” Now, he hugged him. “I was the one who spent years pretending it wasn’t true. That’s on me!”

“You were scared. Believe me, I get that.” Ringo sobbed as he held onto him. “I only wish we hadn’t wasted so much time. We might have been doing so much…” He trailed off, pulling back a little to see Ringo’s face. “I mean, as long as you… if you don’t want to do anything, I suppose that’s fine. It’s just nice having all of this off of my chest.”

“Georgie, I’ve been dreaming of this for so long.” He kissed him again. “There’s no way I’m letting it go this time.”


End file.
